


A Portrait Of Brider Surriss As Boudicca

by braigwen_s



Series: Campai(g)nverse [1]
Category: Homebrew Role-Playing-Game, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Boudicca - Freeform, Don't copy to another site, Historical References, In This House We Ignore Cassius Dio, Late SWR-era, Other, Poetry, Rebel Cell, Rebellion, Some Lines Entirely Lifted From Tacitus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 20:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20377960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braigwen_s/pseuds/braigwen_s
Summary: Brider Surriss started out as a Jedi Self-Insert for a homebrew campaign with a few friends, and now she's accidentally an actual OC with a full life story.  Whoops.





	A Portrait Of Brider Surriss As Boudicca

**Author's Note:**

> Brider Surriss started out as a Jedi Self-Insert for a homebrew campaign with a few friends, and now she's accidentally an actual OC with a full life story. Whoops.

We were massing, with our braided hair and talks of war  
Our land and people stolen, our land and people exploited  
The day my dear Prasutagus died  
Was the day I became a terrorist  
The Empire knows of our omens  
Their statue of victory toppled in the night, face to the earth  
(Both of my hands out, reaching to the Force, willing the durasteel to crack and fall)  
They hear hideous clamour and savage howlings  
(it’s called Iridonian, it’s a language, the stormtroopers are the savages)  
The water shows the image of a colony in ruins  
(I scry and see victory)  
That same water purpled with blood, the figures of corpses traced in the sand  
(theirs or ours? Theirs or ours?)  
We strike their garrison  
They have trained reinforcements, we have farmers with their boots and tools  
They underestimate us  
(Maybe our horns are tipped with blood, and what about it if they are?  
Maybe their garrison is razed to the sweet earth, and what about it if it is?)  
My tattoos are twining spirals of thick woad  
The Empire in their uniforms and their armour  
Their weapons all the same and their voices and their marches all the same  
They lie in wait for our approach  
(We are safe in our forest until we leave –  
We treat the trees well, and so the trees hide us)  
As they scoff at our tunics and our cloaks  
(As we heft up our bows and spears and blasters)  
It is nearly time to rally  
And I ride forward to address my people –  
“From the pride and arrogance of the Empire  
Nothing is sacred; all are subject to violation  
But the vindictive gods are now at hand.”  
This day I will die in battle  
We will scream and we will charge  
Prefect Poenius will fall upon his sword  
And I on the sweetest poison  
(My limbs turning to bark)  
The trees remain.  
Remember me.


End file.
